Academic Discoveries
by blissedoutvixen
Summary: Just a little, could almost be cannon, third year oneshot about Hermione finding out Lupin's a werewolf. NOT romantic, she's 13 people!


_****__An: Just a little story that came into my head that I had to post. I know some of you were probably hoping for more POSB and it WILL come, but I had to get this out. Hope you like it, I think it's kind of sweet. It is NOT romantic, given that she's only 13/14 whatever. This could, potentially, develop into a romantic story when she's older (first chap being a flashback) but for now look at it as a one shot. Hope you guys like it! Reviews are love!  
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_**Academic Discoveries**_

Thirteen year old Hermione Granger sat huddled up in her dormitory bed, hunched over a book. Normally, this would not be an unusual situation, for Hermione could frequently be found studying at all hours day and often late into the night . What _was _quite unusual, was Hermione's reaction to what she was reading. The expression on her face was comparable to the one she had worn last year when, after having been called a Mudblood by Draco Malfoy, she had sought to eradicate her ignorance of the term and sentiments behind it by staying up all night reading a book on Pureblood ethnology and belief systems. She found the author of the book she was currently reading to be just as disgustingly biased as the author of the fanatical Pureblood volume, and the information contained within the text equally as horrifying. She was currently reading _'Signs and Symptoms of the Werewolf; Sniffing them out'_.

Hermione gnawed anxiously on her lower lip in worry, her eyes darting frenziedly across the pages, taking in the printed information with a dawning horror. She stifled a cry, and bit down hard on her lip, breaking through the thin layer of chapped skin and drawing blood. Trying desperately to gulp back her horrified sobs, lest her roommates hear her and come to investigate, Hermione set aside the book. She was overcome by what she had just read. She had known for a few weeks now, ever since Professor Snape's essay, that their defense teacher was a werewolf. The signs had been there all year -his monthly absences, the strange form his boggart took, his scars and unhealthy thinness- and in the course of researching that essay all the pieces had slipped into place. She was honestly surprised that she hadn't put it together sooner, but with everything that was going on this year, she was a little frazzled.

Though she had been shocked upon the realization, she had told no one. The staff obviously already knew, why _else_ would Snape have assigned them that essay? Did he really want the students to find out? That was _vastly _irresponsible behavior for a teacher. It could cause a panic among some of her more ignorant classmates. Did Snape just assume they were all too stupid to put it together, or had he really been hoping that some of them would realize what Professor Lupin was? That was malicious, even for Snape. Why did he _hate _Professor Lupin so much? It had to be more than just resentment over the fact that Lupin had gotten the Defense teaching position over Snape. Snape hadn't been nearly as nasty to Lockhart last year as he was to Lupin, and (Hermione could now admit) Lockhart had been an absolute idiot. Professor Lupin was vastly more qualified. So it had to be personal. Was Professor Snape simply a bigot? That was an unsettling thought. Hermione could accept the man as being a mean, nasty and generally unpleasant person, and still respect him for his immense talent, but if he truly held such hateful beliefs about Professor Lupin because of his affliction, she didn't think she would be able to respect him anymore.

Hermione rolled onto her side and clutched her pillow, muffling her cries into it. Poor Professor Lupin! The information she had gleaned from her text on werewolves was absolutely horrifying, if enlightening nonetheless. Although there were some 'advantages' to the condition, such as having extremely keen senses, reflexes and strength, they in no way made up for the trauma a werewolf went through each month. The pain of the transformation, as the book had gleefully extolled, was said to be excruciating, as the subject would be fully aware as their skin was forcibly stretched, and their bones broken and reformed to fit the body of the wolf. This was not to mention the injure a werewolf would cause themselves during the time of the full moon if unable to sate their bloodlust. No wonder Lupin had so many scars, Hermione thought sadly. No wonder he always looked so weary, so downtrodden and thin. It was common for werewolves to be irritable and aggressive in the week or so leading up to the full moon, and to experience extreme exhaustion for up to a week after the transformation. And these were only the physical effects. There were all kinds of social stigmas attached to werewolves, not to mention the legislation against them. It was very difficult for them to find work or even to have education made available to them. Hermione was sure that the reason Professor Lupin had been allowed to come to Hogwarts was down to Dumbledore. Most places would turn you out the minute they found out you were a werewolf, and of course it was legally required for werewolves to inform all potential employers of their condition upon application.

Discrimination protection laws were not in place for werewolves. In fact, the law only seemed to propagate and promote discrimination against them. It seemed that a particularly vicious sounding woman named Dolores Umbridge had recently tried to pass a law prohibiting werewolves from working around children, due to what she called their 'inherently lustful nature, not just for blood, but also for the taking of flesh in a sexual manner at times not the full moon'. How patently ridiculous! Even if, Hermione thought with a blush, werewolves did experience increased sexual desire and potency around the time of the full moon that didn't mean they would go around assaulting people at random! Professor Lupin certainly wouldn't, she knew that.

Most unjustly, in Hermione's mind, it was almost impossible for werewolves to vote, and it was expressly forbidden for them to hold public office. They had virtually no way to protect themselves from, or counteract the discriminatory, bigoted laws that governed them. It had, at one time, even been encouraged for people to hunt them even in their human forms, though this had been outlawed some two hundred years ago. The barbarous nature of the Wizarding world's treatment of werewolves made Hermione shudder. It was truly disgusting the way they were treated. She felt sick. Their unfortunate condition, as far as Hermione was concerned, did not negate their humanity. But, it seemed that to many in her adopted world, it did.

* * *

Remus Lupin leaned heavily back against his chalkboard and shut his eyes, running his fingers through his sandy brown hair with a sigh. He'd just let out the third years, a class he always found exhausting to teach. It was still difficult for him to be around Harry. Even if it made him feel guilty to feel that way, he couldn't help it. It wasn't just that Harry looked exactly like James had at that age, which he did, and had Lily's eyes, which he did. What was harder to handle was the way Harry was constantly doing things that reminded Remus of each of his parents. He was brash like James, quietly stubborn like Lily, and Christ, his smile was just like James'. Sirius' escape had brought everything back to the forefront, and being around Harry only drove home the most painful losses of his life. The worst part was that he didn't just miss Lily and James and Peter, he missed _Sirius_. So much. In fact, and it was absolutely disgusting and shameful, sometimes he missed Sirius more than he did Peter. Especially when he drank too much and started thinking back on his school days. Sirius had been closer to them, to him and James. _Especially_ to James. Or at least he'd thought so. Remus clenched a fist at his side. He'd never understand why Sirius had done what he had, and it bore no use thinking about. He had more immediate problems at the moment.

Ever since Snape had subbed for him after the last full moon and assigned that essay on werewolves as a bit of revenge, Remus had been unduly paranoid that one of his students was going to figure out what he was. Whatever Snape thought, not all of them were completely stupid. In fact, he was almost sure that Hermione Granger had figured it out. She'd been very on edge these last few weeks, seeming frazzled and constantly close to tears. At first he had put it down to the inevitable stress of using a time turner to get to all her extra classes, and the fact that Harry and Ron didn't seem to be speaking to her (something about a pet rat?). But she'd been acting strangely around him lately. He'd glance up to find her looking at him with this unfathomable look of sadness on her face, her big brown eyes teary. Remus sighed again. But if she did know, it seemed she hadn't told anyone, as had clearly been Snape's dearest hope should anyone manage to put the pieces together. Should he speak to her about it? No, no, he decided, it was probably best that he left it alone…

It was then that he heard it, a soft sniffling noise. Oh, Christ, what _now_? If it was Lavender Brown crying that Seamus Finnegan had been mean to her again, he wasn't sure how sympathetic he was fit to be given his currently dark mood. Bracing himself, Remus opened his eyes. And barely managed to restrain a groan. As if he had summoned her with his thoughts, a young Hermione Granger sat perched atop her desk, crying quietly. Remus sighed heavily. He should have known it wasn't Lavender, the smell of her perfume always made him vaguely nauseous. Hermione just smelled sort of clean, and very faintly like apples. It wasn't unpleasant. But what was he supposed to _do_ in this situation? He did not do well with adolescent crying girls. But he couldn't just stand there like a moron. He had to do _something_.

"Erm, Hermione," he said, approaching her cautiously, as one would a particularly touchy, and dangerous creature. "Are you all right?"

Hermione looked up, her eyes spilling over with tears. "N-no," she stammered. "Everything is _not _all right. Everything is all wrong!" She was full on sobbing at this point, and Remus feared he was just making things worse. He was about to back off again when Hermione opened her mouth and let loose a tirade.

"Those ministry hags are going to kill Buckbeak, and Hagrid will be devastated and there's nothing I can do, and Harry and Ron won't talk to me because of what happened to Scabbers, even though it really isn't Crookshanks' fault because that's just what cats _do_, and Divination is ridiculous, and Sirius Black wants to kill Harry," Here, Remus flinched, but it seemed that Hermione, who was still hiccuping through her teary speech, was too caught up in her own misery to notice his own. "And you're, you're…" Here she broke off, looking up at him with her sorrow filled brown eyes, before, to his utter shock, she launched herslef at him and began sobbing earnestly into his chest.

Remus was frozen stiff with shock. Not only was he unaccustomed to having sobbing girls fling themselves at him, he could also count on one hand (with a few fingers to spare) the number of women who had willing hugged him, willing touched him at all, after having found out about his condition. And Hermione did know, he was sure of that now.

For lack of any other ideas, he began rubbing her back and it seemed to sooth her a bit, for her sobs lessened, even though the smell of salt from her tears still hung thick in the air. He didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't assure her that everything would be all right, because there was a high likelihood it wouldn't be. Meaningless platitudes had never been his forte. So he simply continued to rub her back until she calmed down. After an intermittent amount of time, Remus wasn't sure how long, Hermione released herself from his embrace, still sniffling.

She looked up at him, feeling embarrassed over her childish loss of control now that she had finally managed to stop crying.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered, staring at her shoes, two bright, pink spots blooming on her cheeks, which had been rather more sallow than usual as of late.

"It's fine, Hermione," Professor Lupin said quietly, seeming rather shell shocked. She couldn't blame him. He looked into her eyes for a few moments, as if trying to convey his sincerity that it _was _fine. Or maybe something else, she wasn't sure.

"Go get some sleep," he said finally. "Take the rest of the day off."

He didn't have to tell her not to tell anyone else about his condition. They both knew she wouldn't.


End file.
